


Raging Pines

by TheBardWhoLives



Series: Memories & Dreams [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:21:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24946780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBardWhoLives/pseuds/TheBardWhoLives
Summary: A one-off story set in Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey during the older Twins' childhood. A youngsters boxing match where they stick together through thick and thin.
Series: Memories & Dreams [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936957
Kudos: 10





	Raging Pines

Stanley hated New Jersey. Well, love-hated. Lo-ted? Whatever the dumb word was. It didn't change the fact that Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey was probably the suckiest place on Earth, if not for the nerd next to him. Stanford and Stanley were bent over doubled while dry-heaving as they fought to keep their breakfast down, if one could have even called it that. To old Filbrick Pines, breakfast for the boys before a boxing match was a glass of OJ and a couple preemptive aspirins followed up by a five mile run up and down the beach.

"Ford... I…" Stan gasped as he felt his sides wanting to rip off and leave town without looking back,"I think we're done here. Let's just go back to the car."

"Stan..." Ford wheezed, his lanky legs as steady as a house of cards on a broken table., "we haven't even run two miles yet. You know Dad is watching us and if we cut it short he's going to make us run it all over again!"Stan stuck out his tongue towards the big ugly station wagon their dad had been sitting in while listening to the radio and reading the newspaper. "Well, he can go suck an egg for all I care. I mean, what kinda father makes his kids run before a boxing match? A darn lousy one I say." As he stood straight up and put his fists on his hips, he took a deep breath of the rank bay air. “I wanna see the look on his face when he reads the paper one day and the top headline is, ‘Jersey Twins find hidden treasure in the North Pole!’” Stan started to laugh freely. “He'll burst a blood vessel!”

Stan’s chortling was cut short when a car horn honked in warning and the twins saw their father's stern look through the windshield.

Ford took the lead on the next leg of their run and he glanced at his brother with awe and affection. "You really think there is treasure out there? I mean, it’s probable but I wonder what kind of people would go to that length to hide it... unless it was stolen by some monsters or aliens." . "Can you imagine all of the navigational equipment that aliens might have? The best we can hope for is a sextant; I read all about them and how they work, you see they help sailors navigate by-..."

"Boring!" Stan shouted, interrupting his brother. "Listen to me, Sixer, when we make it big we can buy any fancy whatzit or doodad we can dream of to go off on adventures with. You can get your sexy-thing if you want, but I want nothing more than a grappling hook. Ya know I seen one for sale in the back of those comics, but I don't think it’s the good ones; they never sell anything worth anything in those dumb ads." With the same filling for the intrepid, Stan went on with his dreams of the future once the two of them got out of this sinkhole. 

One thing was certain though: As long as they stuck together, it was going to be alright.

It was not going to be alright, Ford thought grimly.

He looked at the schedule for the boxing matches and saw his name across from Benny Benjamin Benson, the biggest bully in the gym. Though the title for town's biggest bully was still owned by Crampelter, who was the reason he and Stanley had been signed up to learn how to fight. However, how was he supposed to survive tonight against Benny when he could barely hold his own against kids his own size? He had no choice but to back out of the fight. He just needed to walk up to his Dad, stand his ground and tell him that the fight was off. It couldn't be easier, right? 

He turned around to see a familiar set of brown slacks and then looked up to the very familiar yellowish jacket, all the way up to his father's square face.

Filbrick towered over the eleven year old and made a sound somewhere between a car backfiring and a bull spitting; it was the closest thing that came to a sound of surprise from the man. "They got you up against that Benson kid.Pretty steep odds I'd wager. Be a heck of a payout if you won." Filbrick looked down at his abnormal son: a genius hopeless at anything else but. "If only you could build muscle from carrying your brother in school." Ford flushed anxiously at hearing his father's apparent disregard for Stanley. "Tell you what though, I won't offer this to your brother but if you win this match, I'll give you a cut of the winnings. 90/10... 95/5 split. Sounds good?"

"I-I am no-" Ford stammered, wanting to call off the match. But before he could voice any objections, Filbrick slapped his hand onto his shoulder like a rock. "Good man, and maybe best keep it between us. Don't need your Ma gettin' on me for making a quick buck." Filbrick turned and headed off to the stands to presumably talk to his bookie; Stanford wondered what kind of betting racket there was for junior league boxing anyhow. Now that he was all alone, Ford felt his legs turn into overcooked noodles as he sank down against the wall. He put his face into his hands when he felt someone walk up to him and lower themselves down to his level.

"Stanford, what are you doing on the floor baby?" It was Caryn Pines -his Ma - smelling of her department store clearance perfume and intense black coffee. Ford stood up and brushed himself off so that he didn't seem so small and child-like next to her as she studied the bracket. "That knucklehead boxing instructor has you up against that bully? What a bonehead putz. If Shermie was here he'd set things straight with that bully of yours, but he's working overtime tonight. He wanted me to let you and Stanley know he is rootin' for ya."

"It’s okay Ma. If I win I... I think the bullies might leave me alone, at least for a little while." 

Ford tried to be brave in all the ways Stanley was - mostly out of sheer ignorance it seemed. He just wished his twin brother was here to confide in. However, he was still getting ready for his own match after telling Ford he had forgotten to look at whom they were going to be fighting that night. Ford knew Stanley was back in the locker room psyching himself up with a couple cans of Pitt cola to get that sugar rush going. 

Ford looked at his mother, her purple eyeshadow her signature look for her psychic reading advertisements. In truth, she was about as psychic as the Zoltan machine on the boardwalk, but he trusted her and wanted to believe she had some kind of intuition. "Do you think I am going to win. I mean, can you ask the spirits?"

Caryn was a little taken aback. Her boys knew about her business and how much she could actually do, so she had been confident they'd have never asked her for some help in the "spirit realm". But seeing the concern and fear in her baby Stanford's face, she closed her eyes and twisted her features in concentration, praying under her breath for some sign when she opened her eyes and blinked away the spots that were floating in her vision. "The spirits say that you got this, baby." She gave him a tight hug and then kissed his hand, once on each of the six fingers. "That'll be a quarter, by the way." She teased, much to his dissatisfaction.

Ford, feeling a little more confident, walked side by side with his mother as the two of them went to the ring side bleachers where Filbrick was at so they could all watch Stanley's match.

Stanley tightened the head guard and pulled on the weathered boxing gloves. He threw a couple practice jabs at the mirror before stopping. He wondered what it would be like to fight his brother in the ring, if it would have been like the way it was with this mirror, the two of them matching perfectly. That idea quickly made Stan’s head spin. 

Eventually, he heard his name being called and he pulled up his tights as best as he could with the gloves on and headed out. He got in the ring to the cheer of his family name from his Ma and brother, his Dad, of course, never wanting to be caught dead cheering him . That was fine by him. He looked across at the twelve year old who was getting in the ring - Davy Lynch. A real weirdo, even compared to his brother, but not in the charming way like Ford. The ref went through the typical rules: no biting, no scratching, don't go kicking your opponent below the belt, yadda yadda blah blah.

When the bell clanged, he shot out of his corner like a feral raccoon with a flashlight shining on it. Skill was not Stan's forte; not that he didn't know the ins and outs of the sweet science, he just preferred swinging until his opponent went down. That was more than enough fun for him as far as he cared. It worked pretty well as he tore through the first two rounds. It was in the middle of round 3, after he knocked down Davy for what he’d felt was going to be a ten count, that he looked over to see his family in the bleachers. 

Sixer raised his hand and waved at Stan, for which the latter returned with a big grin. However, it turned into horror when Benny Benson took a deliberate step from one bench to the next, right onto his brother's other hand. The thirteen-year-old was smirking, and even though Stan knew it was impossible, he swore he had heard the crunch of Ford's hand under the jerk's foot. Stan was suddenly climbing on the ropes and screaming that he was going to rip off Benny's butt and make him wear it on his face. It was just when he had been distracted enough from his rage that he felt the gloved hand on his shoulder and was turned to face the haymaker from Davy. 

Stan woke up ten seconds later with his head reeling from that monster blow. He didn't wait to hear the ref as he got out of the ring and stumbled over to Ford who was nursing his hand with Ma's help. Filbrick, meanwhile, was angry - well, angrier than usual - with Stanley.

"You idiot, you just cost me fifteen bucks! The kid was almost down for the count but you turned your back on him! Why?!" The red rage was creeping out from Filbrick's tight collar and up his face. "It was an easy bet I had on you, and you still screwed it up!" Stanley was confused about what was going on but his Ma caught on quickly and her anger quickly outpaced Filbrick's.

"You made bets on our boys?" Caryn asked, disbelief and ire in her voice. "You said this was to build character and toughen them up, but here you are making money off of my babies?!" She got up and stormed off outside, leaving Filbrick to walk after her so they could talk.

The twins were left on their own as Stanley fought to pull off his gloves. His hands ached from his lack of strategy, but he knew that Ford's own were in way way worse condition. 

He heard Ford sniffle in an attempt to hold back tears. His twin muttered,"It was already going to be an easy fight for him, why did he have to go and hurt me before the match too?"

Stan hugged his brother and shook his head. "I’m gonna teach him a lesson. I swear to you that he is going to be pickin' up his teeth with tweezers once I’m done with him."

"You can't get into a fight outside of the ring! You know how Dad feels about that." He took off his glasses and wiped his eyes. 

Stan looked at him and his eyes went wide. "I can fight him for you." He picked up Ford's glasses and put them on, briefly confused at how everything came in sharper. "We switch places and I’ll knock his socks off!"

Ford looked at his brother with disbelief. "You'd do that for me? I... don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say a thing, Sixer - you know your impression of me stinks. I can do your voice - we just need to swap places. Come on, I’ll give you my clothes to wear while in the crowd. and we’ll even use the hand wraps to hide your fingers just for a little bit!" Stan said with fire in his voice as they went to get their plan underway.

Once changed they stood in front of the mirror and again it felt a little weird but also really cool. He looked at Ford who was squinting without his glasses. "Stanley, how can you live like this?Everything's so blurry. Oh, and please don't break my glasses. I still want to be able to see the world," he added with some concern.

"You'll get used to it after a while. And don't you worry about your specs, bro-bro." 

He led the way out of the locker room. 

Filbrick was sitting at the ringside with their mother nowhere in sight. Stanley cleared his throat and spoke to his father, "Stanf-ley helped me get ready. I’m going to get in the ring now." He attempted to be as stilted as he could but his Dad just nodded. Stanley looked at Ford who sat down and did his best to look like he did when he was being himself. Did he really stick his chest out that much? 

He ascended the steps again, adjusting Ford's glasses on his nose, trying to be as ready as he could be.

Benny Benjamin Benson entered the ring with a cocky strut, not showing a hint of concern. As far as he had known, the six fingered dweeb was a hand down for the fight. He wondered if seeing his brother getting knocked out had demoralized him even more. He had to admit, the kid had some guts if he was still out in the ring after everything; it didn't mean he'd go easy on him but he still admired the moxie. 

As they approached each other for the glove touch, he decided to needle him before the fight, saying, "Too bad mommy isn't here to see her freak get knocked out in the first round." Benny watched the nerd's eyes narrow and instead of a touch the preteen slammed his fists down over Benny's a lot harder than he had thought he was able to, especially after stomping his fingers.

Stanley didn't pull the same trick as he normally would have. He wanted to make the kid hurt for what he had said and done to his brother. 

No one messed with Stan Pines' family and got away with it, no matter who they were. 

When the bell rang, Stan approached the bully with careful steps. He ducked and weaved the big kid's bulky blows before testing the water with some jabs and crosses. The first round was far from exciting but Stanley could feel everyone had been on the edge of their seats in anticipation. When the second round began, he was much more offensive, pushing the bully against the ropes and landing some head shots after distracting him with body blows. Now with the assistance of more clarity in his vision, Stanley saw the old clasp that was struggling to keep the older kid's head guard on. He changed his tactics and, when the third round started, began setting his sights on targeting and breaking it in an attempt to knock the guard off of Benny’s fat head. 

The older boxer saw it coming like a man tied to a train track - he was just too worn out and weakened to stand a chance of blocking what was coming for him. Before the ref could call timeout, Stanley let out a loud warrior's cry of, "LEFT HOOK!" and brought his fist across the teen's jaw hard enough to send him spinning to the mat like a lopsided dreidel. The crowd erupted in a cheer, but loudest among the audience was the three members of Stanley's family - Filbrick included - chanting their surname.

Stanley kept his gloves on and went to see his family as Ford did his best to hide his identity. His Ma gave him a big hug around the neck and told him the Spirits didn't lie, which didn't make a whole lot of sense to Stan, but he was glad that she was happy nonetheless. 

The biggest shock of all came from the proud clap on his back given to him by Filbrick who looked at him on his level and nodded as if he were an equal. He began, "I am a little impressed by ya, Stanford." His dad waited as Ma and "Stanley" walked off when he took from his jacket a money clip. "Our winnings boy. I have a crisp ten dollars with your name on it, as promised. You more than made up for what your idiot brother lost."

The victory turned to sour milk in Stanley's mouth. Ford had been in on the betting? He shook his head and did his best to hide his disappointment. "I-I'll get it from you later," he said before hurrying to the locker room. 

He heard Ford call out after him quietly before joining him in the locker room to change identities. However, despite Ford's attempts, Stanley did not speak to him the rest of the evening. All the while, Stanford was continually praised for being so tough and strong.

It wasn't until after lights out that Ford changed bunks to try and talk to his brother, though he merely turned over away from him. He put the ten dollars on Stan's pillow and spoke in a brief whisper, "Thank you, Stanley. I know this doesn't cover even a millionth of what you deserve, but... maybe you can get that grappling hook you wanted." Ford touched his brother's back before going back to his bed.

He heard the crinkle of the bill as Stanley picked it up and smiled sadly,hoping that his brother got even a little bit of the happiness he did seeing him beat up the bully like it was nothing.

The next couple of days went by smoothly enough for the bright Pines twin, as Ford got yet more praise from his father and was rewarded even further when Ma made him his favorite dessert for after dinner. Even Shermie had picked him up onto his shoulder and touted him as the toughest Pines in the world. 

But what he wasn't expecting was when he went to his and Stanley's room after dessert to find there was a package waiting for him on his desk. He flipped over the tag for whom it was addressed to and managed to discern one word from Stan's blocky writing: "Sixer". 

He opened it up and inside was a brand new sextant. 

His eyes went wide and he turned to see his twin standing there grinning. "I figured since you were talking it up the other day that we were gonna need it for the Stan O' War. 'sides, I told you those grappling hooks in the back of the comic book were just junk." Stan laughed and put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "High six?" He asked, raising his other hand.

"High six," Ford replied and they slapped their hands together - a dumb move as his own hand had still been recovering from the injury. "Ouch..." Ford whined, though his rather wimpish inflection only sent the two of them into fits of laughter. 

They were always going to have each other's back’s give or take some stumbling.

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Katapultman for assisting in editing.


End file.
